Page 53 of Midnight with the Marquess (The St. Clairs 2)

Chapter Sixteen

Evan had neverbeen more miserable in his life. Not when his father all but disowned him. Not when he’d fought the enemy in the mud and rain and cold. Not even when he’d lost men in battle.

His dejection was all because of Rachel St. Clair.

She was stunning tonight, in some concoction that made her look alluring and unattainable. She had danced almost every dance, her cheeks flushed with excitement as she moved. He’d enjoyed watching her gracefully wind her way around the ballroom with various partners as he’d stood on the sidelines. Evan had no desire to dance.

At least not with anyone but Rachel.

She hadn’t looked in his direction once, blithely ignoring him. He’d avoided being near Alford when the butler announced supper because he knew his friend would encourage him to dine at his table, full of St. Clairs. Instead, he’d retreated to the opposite side of the room and watched her from the corner of his eye.

Rachel had already left the ballroom once with Viscount Michaels. They’d returned a short while later. Evan wondered if they’d kissed and assumed they had. He knew her well enough to figure she would want to test out her new skills. She amiably parted with Michaels after another dance and hadn’t danced with him since. Relief had washed through Evan.

Now, though, she’d just finished dancing with that bloody Merrifield, who’d panted after her like a dog in heat all week. He was just the sort of man that Rachel might consider kissing. Evan had no way to stop her because he had no claim on her—but he could satisfy his curiosity. Without drawing attention to himself, he left the ballroom and exited the house by its front door. Making his way around the house, he arrived at the rear of the country home. The terrace sat above him. Knowing Merrifield’s type, he waited at the far left end, which seemed to him darker than the opposite side.

Sure enough, he heard the familiar voice that tugged at his heartstrings and knew Rachel and Merrifield approached. He held his breath—and heard Rachel ask if Merrifield was going to kiss her. The bastard said one kiss was all he needed. Rage coursed through Evan as their conversation ceased for a long time. Knowing what they were doing. Knowing the little fool was allowing the earl to kiss her in a way that could lead to other things.

Then Merrifield asked to court her, wondering if Evan already did. Rachel breezily explained that she’d merely helped him get Edgemere up and running.

Her words stabbed in his heart more painfully than any French sabre.

Then she surprised him, telling Merrifield that she didn’t want anyone courting her until next Season. Evan wondered why she put the nobleman off, especially since she’d kissed him for so long. Was it her way of letting him down gently? If so, why make plans to attend the theatre with the man next spring?

Rachel St. Clair confused—and exasperated—him to no end.

Quickly, he left the post where he eavesdropped and hurried back to the ballroom. He went to the punch bowl and ordered a cup for himself, downing it quickly and setting the cup aside. Evan turned to watch for Rachel and Merrifield to reappear.

When they did, he did not bother to disguise his fury.

She spied him immediately. Her lips parted as if she would speak to him, even from a great distance. Then somehow, she thought better of it and turned away. A new dance was beginning and Merrifield led her back onto the ballroom’s floor, where they joined a line of others.

Evan paced the edges of the ballroom through that dance and several more. He came to stand next to the musicians and asked a man holding a violin how much longer they’d play.

“The next number is our last, my lord,” the violinist said. “Lord Alford has requested a waltz. I only hope he won’t be vilified by his neighbors when the strains of it begin.”

A waltz...

He could waltz. He was a passable dancer. The waltz wasn’t nearly as spirited as the many country dances that had played tonight.

Determined to dance with Rachel, he found her on the dance floor again as the music came to an end. She separated from her partner and moved in the direction of her brother and his wife. Evan had studied the Duke and Duchess of Everton off and on throughout the night. It was obvious the pair was madly in love. He knew they had a set of twins and yet the couple still acted as if newly wed. No wonder Rachel’s head had been filled with notions of love, having seen the example her brother and sister-in-law set, not to mention how obsessed Alex and Lady Leah were with one another.

Evan strode in Rachel’s direction and reached her before the music began.

He bowed. “Would you do me the honor of dancing the final dance with me, Lady Rachel?” he asked formally.

She seemed bemused so he took her hand and placed it upon his arm, immediately escorting her to the center of the room as the strains of the waltz began. He took her hand in his and placed his arm around her waist, inhaling her perfume as he stepped into the dance.

“You look lovely tonight, Rachel,” he said.

Warily, she stared into his eyes. “I believe I am Lady Rachel to you, my lord.”

“Even after our lessons?” he asked, smiling at her lazily.

“Especially after them,” she said dismissively. “No one is to know of those. Ever.”

“Have you put them into practice tonight?”

“If I have, it’s none of your business,” she retorted.

---